


What the Heart Wants

by Lori_S21



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, Evil trickery is afoot!, M/M, Slash, Spoliers for 8.21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lori_S21/pseuds/Lori_S21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternative scene for The Great Escapist. Crowley has Castiel at his mercy. He wants the angel tablet and will tear through anyone Cas cares about to get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Heart Wants

**Author's Note:**

> Just pretend Crowley isn't the ultimate King of Sass and doesn't instinctively know where Cas has hidden the angel tablet...
> 
> Reviews deserve cookies.

He’s still reeling from the shock of it. 

Not from the betrayal. No. Sadly, Castiel is becoming very accustomed to betrayal. Finding out that his brother, Ion, was an agent of Crowley was something he could almost shrug his shoulders over, if that was something he ever felt human enough to do so. But no, it was the burning pain in his stomach that was so completely overwhelming. The shard of angel blade piercing deep into his flesh, burning and shredding everything inside. He pressed his hands over the entry wound, slipping in his own blood. The pain was intense, sickening. He had never felt anything like it and it was very distracting. 

Too distracting. He presses his hands over the wound not only to staunch the flow of blood, but to protect the precious cargo he had buried within.

He would rather die in this slow and painfully human manner than hand over the tablet, betray his own species again. He allows himself a small groan of pain, sliding down in Crowley’s fancy chair. 

“Just wanted to take a moment away from the action to chat with my old business partner.” Crowley states smugly, answering a question no one asked. Castiel surveys the demon King through wary eyes, knowing these next few hours will be extremely unpleasant, wincing at the reference to their shameful past dealings. He does not spare a glance for Ion, who lurks by the window of Crowley’s extravagant study. He knows no help will come from him.

Castiel presses his lips together and says nothing, feeling the blood drain from his face. “You won’t die just yet. It takes a painful long time to bleed out from the gut.” Crowley adds, practically glowing with satisfaction.

“You can do what you want Crowley,” Castiel gasps out. “I will never tell you where I buried the tablet.”  
Crowley stands to attention at this, eyes narrowing but that ever knowing smirk is still present, much to Castiel’s frustration. Crowley slips around his desk, perches on the edge so he can be closer to the incapacitated angel.

“I know Cas, I know.” He answers, almost soothingly. Castiel waits for more, waits for the taunt, the torture to begin. When nothing happens, he begins to feel apprehensive.   
“The tablets weren’t meant for the angels.” He blurts out, sparing a glance at his brother. ”And they weren’t meant for you.” He stares down Crowley, who only smiles sweetly back.   
“Even so. You’re going to be a good little angel and hand it on over.”

Castiel lets out a decidedly un-angelic snort in response, tasting blood from his cut lip. He narrows his eyes and tilts his head, studying the demon. “You know there’s nothing you can do to make me reveal the location.” He states flatly. 

It’s not necessarily the truth, Castiel realises. If Crowley digs deep enough he’ll find the tablet easily. He knows he doesn’t have long before the tablet is discovered, even if it is by accident through torture. He has to escape. Needs a plan.

“Hmm…” Crowley says thoughtfully. “If only I had some leverage. Some way of making you what to spill your guts – no pun intended…”

Castiel doesn’t like where this is going. A feeling of uneasiness blooms in his stomach, unrelated to the bullet. He chooses not to respond.

“Ah! Wait a minute - I do!” The demon crows triumphantly, practically strutting to the door. “One moment please! Watch him.” Crowley calls out to Ion as he leaves the room.  
This is his chance, Castiel realises. If he can just get the bullet out, he’ll be able to take out the angel with it. He bites his lip, ignoring the too realistic flare of pain as he prepares to rip that fragment out of his stomach. He moves slowly, careful not to attract the other angel’s attention…

When the door reopens he forgets his plan entirely.

Dean stumbles into the study.

He’s bruised, a dark hue beneath his eye that makes Castiel feel a swell of rage. He’s bleeding from his nose and looks furious as he is manhandled into the room but it’s unmistakably him. The sick feeling in Castiel’s stomach intensifies as his friend staggers in, shoved into the room by a pair of black eyed demons. They slam the door behind him, it locks, and they are alone as Ion disappears in a flutter of wings as though summoned by some unheard order.

Castiel feels sick and eventually manages to identify the feeling as _dread._

“Dean…” It leaves his throat as a defeated exhale because if Dean is here, this is bad. He won’t be able to stand by and watch them tear him apart, he _won’t_. Clever Crowley, he thinks. Clever, clever Crowley.

Dean’s eyes go wide as if he’s only just noticed Castiel slumped in the chair, beaten and bloody.

“Cas!” He darts over to the angel, limping slightly, boots falling heavily. “What did that son of a bitch do to you?”

To Castiel’s surprise, Dean crouches on the floor in front of him, and gently takes his shoulders in hand. “You look like crap,” he adds, as if shocked that Cas could look so dishevelled. It makes a ghost of a smile appear across Castiel’s features. Even in the darkest moments, Dean can make him feel as if all is not lost.

He cannot believe that he is allowed this. That Dean would ever touch him again after all that happened in the crypt. Castiel knows that some wounds take longer to heal even if he had repaired the physical damage he’d inflicted upon Dean. That he can feel the warmth of his friend’s hands is a miracle in itself. He thought Dean would hate him. For the beating, for the accidental lies, for abandoning him afterwards. 

“I never should have left you.” Castiel mumbles unintentionally, leaning into Dean’s strong grasp.

Dean’s eyes widen and Castiel once again finds himself thinking that they are beautiful. That this human is beautiful. He shakes his head groggily. He doesn’t know whether an angel can die from blood loss, but he’s feeling the effects already. Perhaps he can if it is a wound from an angel blade.

“Doesn’t matter now Cas,” Dean declares assertively. Always so certain, so sure. Castiel allows himself to indulge a little. He places his palm against Dean’s arm, trailing over soft cotton, relishing the feel of muscle underneath. He knows this body as if it were his own. Helped sculpt it back together again. He sighs, trying to piece together what needs to be said if he’s going to die here. 

“But I hurt you. And I was wrong. We’re stronger together. Was just trying to protect…” He lets his slurred words trail off, unsure of the ending. Protect the tablet? Protect Dean from the tablet and its pursuers? Dean always has been uncomfortable with feelings. Now is not the time to go into all that.

“I know.” Dean murmurs. “You can make it up to me later but right now, we have to get out of here.”

Castiel shakes his head to clear it, knowing what needs to be done. “There’s an angel blade bullet in my stomach. I need you to pull it out.”

He sees Dean lick his lips nervously, notices the way his adam’s apple bobs ever so slightly as he swallows, light stubble over the smooth, warm skin of his throat. He tears his eyes back up to meet Dean’s.

“Okay, whatever you need.” Dean nods slightly. “But we don’t have long. Tell me before Dwarf Vader comes back, is it somewhere safe?”

Castiel blinks slowly, trying to draw himself out of those arresting, green eyes. He curses his weakening body, tries to remain focused. “Is what safe?” He asks stupidly.  
“What do you think?” Dean smiles easily, rolling those eyes. “The angel tablet Cas!”

It takes him a moment to focus clearly. “Not remotely safe. We need to go. Now.” 

“Easy now, take it easy.” Dean hesitantly lowers one hand to Castiel’s stomach, trying to stem the bleeding. He slides his other hand so that it is cupping Cas’ jaw. Then he gently raises Castiel’s face so that they are separated by inches. Cas feels the warmth of that calloused skin intently. Dean’s breath against his cheek. It makes his head fuzzy. He can smell Dean – the scent of blood, gun oil and something rustic that is just him. “Hang in there.” Dean urges, and Castiel has never heard him so sound soft, so desperate.

“The bullet… You have to remove the bullet…” He murmurs, not quite understanding why Dean isn’t leaping into action.

Dean shushes him softly. “We don’t have long before they come back Cas.” He repeats.

“I know.”

“So tell me,” His hand brushes back some of Castiel’s unruly hair. A gesture that has Cas reeling with surprise. “Where is it?”

“The tablet?” His mind is muzzy and he’s starting to feel cold. He never knew what cold was before. His body leeches warmth from Dean’s proximity leaving his head spinning.  
“Yes, the tablet.” Dean nods eagerly. “Like you said before, we can protect it together. We’re stronger together.”

Castiel is filled with doubt. The best thing they could do is try to break out of here right now. But Dean doesn’t know the tablet is here with them. He fidgets uncertainly, removes his hand from Dean and tries to pull the bullet out himself.

“Hey! Don’t carve yourself up!” Dean protests. He pulls it away, clasps the hand within his own, slick with Castiel’s own blood. 

His other hand slides over Cas’ cheek and he leans into the warmth before he can stop himself, nuzzling like a cat. He cannot deny himself this as his eyes flutter shut. This need that makes him feel crazy, yet is the only thing that keeps him sane sometimes.

“C’mon Cas,” Dean urges, rubbing his thumb along a cheekbone, his bottom lip, making him gasp with sensation. “They’re gonna kill me. I need you.”

I need you. The same words again, an echo of that nightmare in the crypt. This is Dean. His Dean. He can trust him. Of Course he can. 

“We can protect it together. You and me Cas.” He whispers and Castiel is nodding.

Castiel licks his lips, his breathing stuttering. He can’t tell if this is real anymore. He thinks he might be dying. “Dean…” He leans into his friend’s hands, turns so that his lips graze the shell of Dean’s ear and whispers: ”It’s inside me.”

Dean pulls away slightly, so they can face each other. He looks astonished. He cups both cheeks in rough hands and smiles. “Aren’t you clever?” He laughs before lightly pressing his lips against Castiel’s.

It tastes of blood and wholly takes Castiel by surprise, knocking the breath from him. His own lips stir against the embrace and he feels a shock of warmth and gratitude, going pliant in Dean’s hands. Dean gently traces his face, the corner of his mouth, a line of cheekbone, before slowly pulling away.

“Thanks love.”

Dean casually gets up, walks over to the door, and leaves the room with ease. Ion is back.

Still blinking with confusion, Castiel hears a voice on the other side of the door. A smug British accent. Unmistakeably Crowley.

“You were right. I do make a great Dean Winchester.”


End file.
